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You must keep sending work out; you must never let a manuscript do nothing but eat its head off in a drawer. You send that work out again and again, while you're working on another one. If you have talent, you will receive some measure of success - but only if you persist.
--Isaac Asimov


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Wednesday, December 15

Stinking Rotten Scoundrels

In the true Christmas fashion, my life has become a daily struggle of crises. Both the van and the car are out of commision, leaving me and my feet tired. Also, my computer is down and out for the count. All this amid the day to day problems that arise with two growing boys in the house. So, until my life returns to normal, the posts will be far and few between.

On a brighter note, someone has been able to correct me on one of my earlier posts. Thank You. The poem is "Inviticus" by William Ernest Henley. Since I memorized this poem almost 13 years ago, I accidently changed a word or two and forgot a stanza. Here is the correct version.


Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole.
I thank whatever gods may be,
for my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance,
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance,
my head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears,
looms but the Horror of the Shade,
and yet the menace of the years,
finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how straight the gate,
how charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.
William Ernest Henley


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